The Unheard Melancholy cry
by dilliance
Summary: Slash w/ Mystery. a boy goes missing in the country side of windsor. Holmes and Watson goes down to solve the case, but gets tangle in their own personal problems. Mystery starts at chapter 3
1. Chapter 1

Intro: story takes place couple of months after "the sign of four" few week before John Watson's marriage.

Disclaimer: I give total credits to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for making this fabulous pair as someone told me, they are indeed the best pair ever (laugh) I thank that someone too, for giving me the idea of shipping this two together. I never thought of it before she asked me "do you ship Holmes and Watson?" before that conversation, I didn't even know what "ship" means. (Laughs again). And lastly, I am NOT a Sherlock Holmes (the Character) fan, for aside from the glimpse of hotness every now and then, I only see him as a crazy old coop who does drugs (-.-) in the other hand, I love my dear Watson so much. (laugh)

Warning: May contain some sexual, or at very least romantic boy to boy sense. Because I'm not yet done, I don't know how this will turn out, but pray do be warned.

Pray do enjoy all Sherlockians! And if you do have time, pray do review (wink)

PS. if you would like to skip to the mystery right away, pray, by all means do. it starts at chapter 3 :)

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><p>It was just past 8pm when I walked in to our old compartment in Baker Street, just in time to witness what I counted to be the fourth shot of cocaine that day. After the sigh of both relief and pleasure, our eyes met. I raised an eyebrow questioning what I just saw.<p>

"Cocaine? I bet that's the fourth shot to-day." I said in a slight tone of disgust. As much as I respected and admired this friend of mine, I, especially being a person of medicine, could not see the bright side of his daily drug use.

"Yes, it's the same old seven-per-cent solution. But no, my dear doctor, it's already the seventh shot today." Said he, in a manner I only could describe as drowsiness obviously due to the drug. Once again, he gave a sigh, but this time of despair. "This is as well as killing me, Watson."

At that, I felt a pang of unexpected guilt and pity. I must be honest, it has been a rather peaceful month, or maybe even dull as Holmes would place it, for there hasn't been a single crime, even for the official police to deal with. Furthermore, it has been months since our last case, which was "The Sign of Four", where I met Ms. Mary Morstan, soon to be Mrs. Mary Watson. Unlike me, who in the last turn of event had the best result, for Holmes, it robbed him of me. As much as he does not admit it, my frequent and long absence seemed to do more bad than good. The more I was not with this fellow, the more frequent he used his drugs. But as far as I see thing, I could not find a way to be together with Mary and Holmes at the same time. Sometimes I even wondered his life before we met.

"How was your date?" he inquired probably sensing my distress. It failed to amaze me that he knew I was with Mary for it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to know that. Before I could open my mouth to answer, he added some details that I never mentioned. And I must admit that it took me by surprise this time, both from his knowledge and his bitterness. "You took her to a first class restaurant. Lobster, hum? It should have made a fine meal."

"How did you know that?" I ask, "And why so bitter about it?"

His expression gloomed at my comment. He just shrugged me off saying "no matter" and went back staring at the window with his blood-shot eyes. As much as I felt guilty and sorry for this magnificent man, I too was insulted both by his bitterness and ignorance to lift his mood. So without much more words, I excuse myself and exited to my quarter. Though it was early, barely nine in the night, I headed to bed, exhausted. Just before I closed my eyes, I heard the melancholy cry of his violin. Wondering what made my companion play his violin in such a state, I nodded off to sleep in the young night.

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><p>to be continued at chapter two...<p>

"the only real home of Holmes is in Watson..." -A friend of mine (laugh) Hey, if you identify me keep it hushed for this is a secret hobby (laughs)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two: in the dark

I felt a warm, but a bit rough object gently pressed against my forehead for just what I know to be no more than a split second. I, being from the army, woke up with the light brush, startled. It was still dark outside, probably around two or three in the morning. I slowly sat up and squinted to the dark, trying to make out the person or the object that disturbed my slumber. It took a while for my sight to adjust to the dark but after a while, I finally saw Sherlock Holmes sitting beside my bed, with an amused expression. It surprised me to see him here, for even if we were close, we were both men of privacy.

"Holmes? What are you doing here?" I asked obviously confused and a bit worried for this was an unusual behavior of my friend.

I just needed something to observe after the eighth shot of cocaine and the second morphine shot." Said he, "Oh, and doctor, you better avoid construction sites. Even if it's only a scratch it might scar. You ought to be more careful." His eyebrows knitted into a frown.

"Never mind the scratch!" I exclaimed, "Eight shots of cocaine and two morphine shots? You will kill yourself like that, Holmes!"

"I just needed to work this brain of mine." He sighed.

With that I asked trying to give him something to think about even if it's a little. "How did you know that I was at the construction site? And how did you know that I was wounded? I concealed it very well."

This is what actually happened. After the meal, Mary and I decided to have a walk around the city. But I was too concentrated in my thoughts that, not only did not hear single of my fiancée's words but I actually slipped into a hole dug to build or fix something. Along the process, I wounded myself in my right arm, more of a cut than a scratch, which ran from my wrist to my elbow. It was not that serious, but my clothes were thorn and it still did need some medical attention. So we went to bandage up my wound, and buy a new set of clothes, which I came home with.

"Well I observed that there were some traces of gravel and other unique material with can only be found at a construction site. The nearest one from here is a whole dug near the restaurant you had a meal to-day. Well your shoes would not have gotten dirty unless you walked into the whole, which is very unlikely. So we can conclude that you fell into it. The very light scratch in the left side of your face proves that. Also the fact that your clothes had change when you came home supports my theory, since it would have been likely that you ripped it in the fall. As for the wound, I saw the bandages peeking out of your sleeves. You are right handed so if it was anything serious, you would have avoided using it, but you seem perfectly fine, so I presume that it's only a light scratch."

I laughed and congratulated him for getting it perfectly right. I did not mention to him that fact that it was not a light scratch, but rather a cut that needed few stitches. But I omitted the fact to him. Maybe I indeed concealed my injury well.

"How bad is it really?" he inquired in a tone of worry." I might be never wrong when it comes to my observation, but I am no doctor, Watson. I may know what it takes to kill a person, but aside from that I could not tell the intensity of a mere injury as a medical graduate could. Now tell me, how bad is it?"

I stared at him dumb folded. As far as I can recall, it was his first that he admitted his short coming in knowledge. He would usually state a knowledge he does not know is due to his ignorance to it for he did not found it important to him. Now, he was admitting that his knowledge in medicine was shorter than mine in total humility.

"It's really no big deal. Just a scratch as you said. It did need minor medical attention but it will be completely healed in two weeks." I informed him.

"You must take better care of yourself. What will poor Mary do if she ever looses you?" he said the last statement with a hint of sarcasm but I could see that he was truly worried about me.

"Well, I think that you should better care of yourself. With the amount of drug you take into your body every-day, you ought to die before me!" with that we both gave chuckle. It has seemed that the conversation had lifted his mood a bit. We proceeded to the sitting-room, where we chat and waited until the sun rose in the horizon.

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><p>to be continued in chapter 3:an early visitor<p>

"Elementary."-Sherlock holmes


	3. Chapter 3

This is where the Mystery starts. I hope this chapter does not bore you too much. Pray do read it til the end though.

Disclaimer: I Do NOT live in England, and never even visited it in my life. As far as I know Windsor is around 45 minutes train distance from London, and a quiet countryside. But if I am wrong pray do pardon my error. Also, I do not know any street name of sort, so all addresses and names are made out. Once again, I give full credit of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson to their Author, though Annalisa M. Clifton, James Clifton, Jeremiah Clifton, and Stephen are out of my pure imagination. Once again Enjoy and pray review my work

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><p>Chapter three: the early visitor<p>

It was few minutes after 6 when Holmes noticed a four-wheeler stop just in front of our apartment. The door flew open, and a young lady, who I presume to in her late twenties or her early thirties, hastily stepped down. Her long, curly locks were a bright shade of golden, her eye were a light hazel, red and puffed up most probably from crying. She wore a soft shade of beige and was looking down at a small piece of paper. Then she stared at our compartment, and crossed the street in such a hurry we knew some horrible, or maybe "exiting" as my companion said, tale was to be told to us.

"Oh, a client!" Exclaimed Holmes, "and at such an hour. Must be something of great importance, or she would have waited for a more convenient time." He was obviously excited and thrilled for this case, for the drowsiness of his voice and the blank stare in his eyes had disappeared without a trace.

"I wonder what it is about." Said I in a low voice, feeling pity for the young woman for she obviously had went through a great deal of sorrow.

"We don't have to wait any longer!" just as he said it, we heard a soft but fast footsteps up the stairs, and seconds later, a knock in the door. My companion answered with a loud "come in!" and stepped in the young lady in the beige dress. At closer inspection, her hair was wet and so were her dress, her shoes carrying little mud.

"Why how can I be of a service to you, madam?" Said the detective in a gentle voice he uses on women of distress state. "And I believe that you are not from London, but somewhere little bit farther off. Does your husband know where you are right now?"

Our visitor stared at him blankly, trying to figure out how he got the details. "Why, I am truly sorry to disturbed you in such an hour. I'm pleased to know that you were awake." she said in a soft trembling voice, wearied from crying. "And as you said, I am not from London, but from Windsor. Yes, he does know I am here."

"Ahh, yes. Pray do take your sit. You are drenched, from rain perhaps." commented my Companion. At that she gave a quick nod. "Now, may I ask what drove you to come this early all the way from Windsor?"

"I am Annalisa M. Clifton. As I mentioned I am from Windsor, and I used to live with my husband and my son." She informed us.

"Used to?" I ask, wondering why she was talking as if it was all in the past.

"Yes, used to. That is what I'm here to talk about, Mr. Holmes. And may I ask who you might be?" inquired she in a questioning face.

"Forgive my rudeness. I am Dr. John H. Watson, a close friend of Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Maybe you prefer that I step aside? After all I'm sure you came to see my roommate." I offered. Before she can reply, Holmes cut in.

"No, dear Watson. I prefer that you stay. This seems to be a very interesting case, and maybe I will finally wean of the drugs for a while. Mrs. Clifton, I'm sorry but it's either you speak to both of us, or none. But you could trust this friend of mine, as much as you trust me."

"Very well, then." She replied softly. "I did not mind it from the start anyhow. Pray, let me continue. As I said, I am here to consult you, Mr. Holmes about my little, maybe not so little, case. I heard about you from a friend of mine, who heard from a friend of hers and so on. But that is not the point. I hope that you would listen to my story and give me an answer to all this mystery." Her words were firm even if she spoke in a soft manner. I could tell that she was a strong woman, but of a gentle personality.

"Pray do start your story. I will listen and see how I can be a service to you." said he. He was already in his usual thinking position, his eyes half closed, and his head comforted by the several pillows he laid upon.

"Well, it all started a week ago. The house I live is singled-floored with three bed-rooms, a sitting-room and a dining-room. One of the bed-room was for my son Jeremiah, who is five years of age and our family dog Stephen. We used the other room adjacent to our child's room. And in front of his room, was the third bedroom, which my husband converted into a study. About a week ago, November 12 to be exact, my son complained of a tap-like-noise in the middle of the night. It was around 2 in the morning if I remember it right. So frighten he was over such a small matter that we just had to invite him into our bed for the night. We didn't think much about it, and placed all the blame to his childish imagination. The next night, at a similar hour, he came again, knocking at our bed-room door, crying. He said the tapping was there again, and he was extremely scared. My husband, James, went over to check but he heard or saw nothing."

"Where did your dog spend the night?" ask Holmes out of nowhere. With all honesty, I did not know what importance was the dog, and I had almost forgotten that they even kept one.

"At the sitting-room, for James would not allow Stephen in our bedroom." She answered. "After the second night, things seemed to quiet a bit down. Jeremiah stopped complaining, and we forgotten all together the tapping noise in the night. That was until last night. I woke up few minutes past two due to a loud tapping, or I would say knocking noise. It frightened the soul out of me. When I was about to wake James up to go see what was up, we heard Stephen barking. James woke up because of the noise, and hurriedly proceeded to the source of the commotion. It was coming from our Son's room. We turned the knob, and were surprised to find it locked. Jeremiah never locked the door. While I went to look for the key, the barking stopped, and the tapping noise vanished along with it. I came back with the key, opened the door and found a horrible sight." I held my breath for I knew something terrible had happen to the poor boy. Holmes was just listening quietly, his brows knitted into a frown, and a pipe had somehow found its way to his mouth.

Mrs. Clifton started sobbing and her body trembled from the memories of the night. As much as I tried to think of words of comfort, I could not think of any, for we will never know the hearth of a mother who had a tragedy fall open her boy. After a few minutes, she collected herself and continued with her story.

"Both Jeremiah and Stephen were nowhere to be found. In the bed we saw a big pool of blood, and it made its way to the window. I screamed at the sight, and James' face had reddened, both from fright and anger. We hurriedly called the police, and they were in the house with in twenty-minutes trying to find clue to the boy and the dog that had been there just less than an hour ago. Three police where sent outside in search of the villain and our poor boy, but to no avail. The detective looked for clues, but aside from a few muddy foot prints and the blood there was no more clue to be found. The police have no idea at all, not a single theory, on who could have taken my child. Aside from the obvious fact that they went out through the window, they are clueless about all this. " And she went on crying again, with her face buried in here hands.

After a long silence, the tall, thin detective finally spoke. "How will you describe your son?"

"He was a bright boy, who was friendly with all, and who just loves the nature. He was the one who insisted of keeping Stephen, who we picked up as a puppy in the streets." She explained in-between the sobs.

"What can you say about Stephen then?" He asked again. I was surprised at his interest in the dog.

"Stephen was a huge boy, most probably a mongrel of a Newfoundland and a Saint Bernard. He would easily be 90 pounds. He was playful but protective of my son, and would care for him with a great gentleness." I could sense that she had loved Stephen as well, though of course not as much as her son, which made thing even harder for her.

"Is there any other detail you would want to add?"

"There was this weird thing." Said she, "As you said, it had rained last-night and as well this morning, leaving the soil muddy. That was the reason why there were foot prints in the crime scene. But the mud outside lacked the foot prints, but instead, we found two long lines, which we cannot tell what it is. It looks like a blade of some sort, but we cannot be sure. With the trail, are dog foot prints, which we think belongs to Stephen. We followed the trail as far as it went, but it ends in a meadow nearby, and we cannot tell, where they went after. The prints might still be there since the morning shower was just a light drizzle."

"Perfect." Holmes said with a smile. "But there are still some points that are tangled to me, and would have to investigate further to find out. Would you mind be dropping by the house around 4 in the noon today?"

"Why, I prefer that you would come a bit earlier, as I would like to see my son, "she stopped for a split second to give a little sob, "If it's still possible, as fast as I can. But if you are only available by four, pray, by all means, do visit. I would take my leave now, for I worry that James will be too stressed to handle all this alone. I too am need of his company to comfort me. I would be expecting you by late noon. Here is the address." And she hurriedly scribbled down 12 WestWood Street, North Windsor. "Bye now, and I'll be waiting for you." She said in the same soft voice and walked out of the room in the same soft but fast step, sobbing as she left. With that, Me and Holmes were left alone once again.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all readers, who actually did read this far. (and I hope at least one of you did)

Chapter 4: mercy

"I'm sure you do not have any schedule upon your hands today. Why don't you make your way to Windsor right away?" I ask in a curious tone. This was surely an interesting case, and I expected the man to rush down immediately like a hound on the scent, trying to sniff up its prey. But instead he was sitting here, his eyes close, puffing his pipe and humming the same sad tune that he played last night.

"My dear Watson," said he. "Patience is a virtue, and timing is everything. There is no point of us rushing in now. Sure, I would love to get my hands on some more data as soon as I can, but I'm just waiting for the time." Even as he said that, I could see that even he was impatient for the time of our departure. Soon after, he started marching around the room, his chin pressed to his chest, mumbling something to himself. Once in a while he will look at his clock, check outside the window as if he was waiting for something to come.

"Watson, what do you make out of this case?" he finally asked. "We might have heard the same story, and went through the same data, but we have different imagination. Sometimes, imagination is all that one needs to solve a case. Now let me hear what you think of this case."

"It sure is a curious one. I could not imagine how one would manage to bring a dog that would easily have weighed ninety pounds and boy who might be struggling at the same time. The guilty party ought to be someone of a great strength. But why bring the dog in the first place? I am sure he was after the child, not the mongrel. And also, what are the lines that they left behind?" said I, arranging my thoughts and questions as they came.

"Excellent, Watson, excellent!" he cried in an excited tone. "You seem to be improving greatly. You gave the right question. How would one manage to carry out a struggling boy and a dog who weighs ninety-pounds? And why? This are all question soon to be answered in our trip. And as for the lines, I have a fairly good idea what they are from. It seems like the telegram I was suspecting is not coming." He said glancing at his watch. It was almost quarter to three.

"Telegram?" I ask. "From whom, may I ask?"

"Well, no other than Mrs. Clifton herself. But it looks like I was mistaken. We better hurry now, or we would not make it to Windsor in time. The next train will leave by three." With that we grabbed out coats and hats, I my stick, and made out way to the train. Within ten minutes, we were sitting on a comfortable sit, heading to Windsor. The train flew past the landscapes as my companion quietly sat there with his eyes closed, his pipe still puffing.

The silence encouraged me to forget about the mysterious disappearance of the boy and the dog for a while, and drift away from thoughts to thoughts. Then I finally remembered the night before, or rather this early morning, where I woke up due to the gentle press against my forehead. I had forgotten it due to all the rather exiting turn of events, and now that I had no better thing to do, I wondered greatly what it was. It was probably Holmes, but what part of him? By no means was it his hand, for I perfectly knew how his long fingers and ink stained palm feels after all those time it held me back from excusing myself from his clients. Though they too were soft, warm yet a bit rough, there was something different about it.

My eyes scanned my companion, looking for the part that touched me for such a short moment; his hands to start with, then his sharp eyes, his cheeks, his nose, and finally his lips. I never noticed his lips before. The way it was held against his pipe, how it was a bit cracked after the countless restless nights and abused cocaine use. I never knew that his lips were such a pail shade, just like the rest of he was. Then it struck me, 'was it his lips that gently pressed against my forehead?' in other words did he kiss me? Just as those unspeakable thoughts crossed my mind, Holmes opened his eyes, surprising me.

"What is it, Watson?" he asked. His voice rang in my head and I almost could see myself blush with embarrassment. How could I ever think of such thoughts! I am to wed Mary in a few weeks and here I am wondering if my friend had sneaked up to kiss me in the middle of the night.

"Oh, nothing." I said with an awkward chuckle. "Pray do pardon me if I disturbed your thoughts."

"If one does not wish to tell me, by all means, I respect your privacy." He said, reading right trough me. Alas, I was completely at his mercy. If he would please, I believe he could know right away my thoughts. "But if you are curious about something, pray do just ask, and I would answer with all honesty."

Before I could think of a response, the train came to a halt and our journey to Windsor was over. Holmes stood up and made his way out with such eagerness, leaving me behind, lost in thoughts and worry. I was sure that he knew what I was thinking about.


	5. Chapter 5

First update in a long while… thank you who ever you are who actually read all this. (laugh) you are the only reason I am continuing this story, but I hope others will enjoy it too! Well, chapter five is here, and pray do enjoy it!

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><p>Chapter five… the steps<p>

Windsor was a peaceful place indeed. The grassland stretched over huge distance not disturbed aside from the occasional tree here or there. The houses where located far apart from each other, giving plenty of privacy and peace. We made our way to the given address in a cab. Holmes was silent but excited, staring out the window with a twinkle in his eyes. He chatted down notes every now and then, murmuring things that made sense to him alone. I just sat there, opposite of him, trying to forget how easily he read through me. I concentrated on the case, but even this subject was not all that clear. I had not a single idea where the boy might be, but this friend of mine seemed completely pleased with the results and data he was gathering. I was pretty sure he had a fair idea about the boy's whereabouts.

The pathway to the unit 12 Westwood Street was a mess both of mud and footprints. Holmes grumbled how they ought to keep the crime scene more preserved and was truly annoyed with the mess they had created. Never the less he went to work with it right after, asking me to wait in the entrance. He snooped down and went back and forth the path, trying to leave as little prints as possible. After a half an hour, he finally stood up and marched unhappily into the door of the house.

"Nothing that I could use," said he in bitterness. "All I see are the four officers', Mrs. Clifton, Mr. Clifton and two young ladies which probably are the servants. Nothing of the dog or the little boy could be made out. It is Possible that it might have been all stumbled upon carelessly by the local officials, but not so probable. Let us carry on."

The knock on the door was answered by a small, chubby lady who looked to be in her late twenties. She had a sweet face, though one would not classify her to be pretty. She looked in questioning eyes for a few second, and then gave a smile of recognition.

"Ah! You must be Mr. Sherlock Holmes! Master and his wife are waiting for you! They told us you are coming here at four to find our dear young Jeremiah. You are quiet late though! Please, do come in! I am sure master will be more than please to know that you are finally here!" Her voice was high pitched and loud.

We were shown to the sitting room where the couple was waiting. Mrs. Clifton showed a big smile at the very first sight of us.

"Mr. Holmes! I thought you will never come! Anyhow, please meet my husband, James Clifton."

Mr. James Clifton was a handsome man who had a gentle air around him. He was of medium built, clean face, soft brown tresses, and a pair of tired looking caramel coloured eyes. He shook hands first Holmes than with me. He seemed to be a gentleman of great manners.

"As you can see, Mr. Holmes, both my wife and I are eager to see our son again. We hope you can help us in this matter. We will try to pay you as much as we can, even if we are a humble family. Our Son is worth more than any amount you can name." said he in agitated tone.

"This case surely got my interest, Mr. Clifton. I would not abandon it for the world. You got my words that I will see an end of to this case. But pray let me warn. Frankly, I would not grantee you that your boy is still breathing, though it is highly probable that he is." Holmes' face was free of all emotion when he uttered these lines. But I, knowing his habits and expression up to the littlest detail noticed the hard glisten in the eyes that beamed with excitement. He was craving to solve this case.

"Well, thank you for your warning. But I believe he is still alive, out there just waiting for us to rescue him. We refuse to belive other wise. Well, if you will be so good to start on this case, we both will be patiently waiting for some good news." said he in a hard voice. He was obviously upset with the words of my friend. Holmes just shrugged and there was silence for a few minutes.

"Well!" my companion finally exclaimed, "is there any more details you would want to add from the story you told me earlier?"

"No. there wasn't any more improvement since the morning. But you will find the officer in charge of this case at the local police station. Mr. Standerson by name." informed the lady in a soft, shaky voice.

"Then I have no more reason to be sitting here. Well then, my good people, if you will pardon me, I will be more use out there, than in here. I will check your crime scene before we head outside, if you don't mind. Let's go Watson!" with that, he flew out of his chair, and made his way briskly out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

I found the last chapter rather short and dull, so I will try to make it up this chapter. It's surprisingly harder than I thought to mix romance AND mystery. (Laugh) expect more slash scenes this chapter and in the few more chapters to come. :D thank you for all those who did read, and I'm SUPER DUPER thankful to those who actually "favorite" this story! (Cry with joy) it might not be that popular for some reason, but I do enjoy this story personally and will be happy if others enjoyed it too… please do review it if you can!

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><p>Chapter 6… to understand<p>

Not before long, Holmes was examining every single detail the room had to offer. It was a space of not great size, with a bed in the middle and a big bright window parallel to its entrance. The sheet was soaked red, and the room was filled with the all too familiar stench of blood. I could vividly imagine the little boy being harmed in every possible way, and his blood slowly drenching the bed. From the bed to the window were muddy boot prints and splattered blood with my companion crouched down at it with his magnifying glass, memorizing every detail that could aid his theory.

Just then, the case slipped through my thoughts and once again he was the one filling my mind. The hard, intense glisten of his eyes, his thin long fingers that held so tightly on to the magnifying glass, his expression that goes soft and intense every now and then as ideas come and go, the dark locks that falls perfectly upon his head, the extreme angles of his face and finally his pale lips that murmured all throughout. Alas! Those were the lips that explain his brilliant thoughts, share his unbelievable knowledge, aid him through his extraordinary cases and maybe that might have kissed me in the course of the night. Why was I not able to look away from those cracked lips? Why was I so troubled over them? At last, I admitted the facts to myself. Perhaps I was craving for them. I wish them to gently press against me once more, and let me feel the warmth again. I devoured my friend with my eyes as those shameful and terrible thoughts corrupted my mind.

"Watson, pray do just ask if a question is bothering you." Those words broke the spell that I was held captive with, and called me back to reality. Once again, my face grew hot as I realize how intensely I was staring at him.

"Pardon me. It seem like I am truly being a distraction to-day." said I with an awkward cough. Holmes just shrugged as a response.

"As much as you know, I favor concentrating on my cases, thinking of nothing else. I highly discourage any sort of distractions." His words stung and I was afraid he will dismiss me from this mystery. I suspected that I was to head to London with the earliest train possible. But the words he said next took me by surprise. "But, my dear Watson, getting rid of you won't ease my mind. Rather, it will be of a greater distraction. And it seems like this time, it is partly of my fault. "

I just stared at him, not able to say anything. He too just stood there, with one question in his eyes. 'Will you ask me?' Even if he did not ask out loud, the question screamed in my ears, and my head hummed with confusion. 'Should I ask him? If so, ask him what? What would that achieve?' For that moment, we both had abandoned the case and were tangled up in our own personal problems. After a minute or two of silence, I finally spoke up.

"I believe you know my question." Said I with the firmest voice I could produce. My throat tightened as if refusing to release the words.

"You should never overestimate someone. My questions could always be of error. I would not risk voicing them out without confirming that this is what truly bothers you. So, now Watson, I would like to hear it from you." He said it with such calmness and authority that I believe he in did have the wrong question in his mind. How could anyone think of such thoughts and not be agitated?

After few moments of hesitation I decided that the best way to deal with this odd yet closest friend of mine is to be frank. Even so my head spin and my face blushed as I uttered silently the question that had been within me for hours.

"Did you kiss me last night?"

"Yes." Not a hint of emotion was seen.

"Why?" There was a slight tremble in my voice.

He just sighed as an answer. He walked closer to me, not minding the fact that he was stepping all over his evidence. He grabbed my wrist, as if to prevent me from fleeing, and finally whispered something in my ears. "Well, pardon me; I thought you will not notice the kiss. But also I believed that you will understand its meaning. My dear Watson, I could simply do more if it's to make you understand."

His breath smelled like his pipe, strong yet gentle. I could feel his cool long finger pressed against my wrist. His hair brushed against mine, and his lips were just a few centimeter away from my ears. These things where making my heart beat way too fast, and breathing all too hard. He slowly closed in more, and I just could not take it anymore. I pushed him away with all the strength I had left, for Holmes was an exceptionally strong man, but he did not resist. He just looked at me with a blank stare and shrugged once more.

"I'll go call the officer." I said in a hope to change the subject and escape his presence. I rushed out of the room, closed the door behind me and fell to the floor with a sigh of my own. What was it that he wants me to understand?


	7. Chapter 7

The last chapter contained a bit emotional Watson, and a straight forward Holmes…. and so little of the case. Let me try to balance it in this chapter. Well, I hope you will enjoy another chapter of my story! :D

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><p>Chapter seven… the clues<p>

Mr. Standerson was of a medium built, a clean-shaven face, and a relaxed expression. He was deep in his thoughts when I greeted him at the station, but he was please to know that Mr. Sherlock Holmes was into the case. Soon enough we were back in the room where the mystery had taken place to find my friend down in the floor. He didn't even notice our entrance, only to look up when I gave a cough or two.

"Mr. Holmes! It's a pleasure to have you in this case." Said Mr. Standerson.

"I too am pleased to be given a chance to study such an interesting mystery. Now if you will give me some more time, I would like to finish my study first of this room before I could have the pleasure of having a conversation with you." Without further words Holmes went back to sniffing out the missing links of this case. The local detective gave me a questioning look, and all I could give in response was a shrug.

Holmes took long, having us wait patiently. Even if Mr. Standerson was a pleasant enough companion to talk to, I did not want to leave Holmes behind of any information he would like to hear. For that reason, we ended up just sitting quietly. Silence was the last thing that I needed as of the moment, for it made me think back to his words. But having not thing better to do, I ponder on the words that hunted my mind. 'I could simply do more if it's to make you understand.' What was it really that he wanted me to understand? And what was it that he would do? Before I could reach my conclusion, my friend ended his research first, approaching us with a grin.

"Things had gotten real interesting, my dear Watson." said he. He did not seem to remember the little conflict we had just an hour ago. But if he had refused to acknowledge the event, I did not see a reason for me to brood over it, so I too went with the flow.

"Well then, will you be kind enough to sit down here with us and narrate to us your findings?" said I.

"After we have heard Mr. Staderson and his theory, that is. Good afternoon, once again. Will you be a service to us by telling us the details and what you make of it?" Homes had taken his sit, and already getting into his usual thinking position. Mr. Standerson sifted in his chair, made himself comfortable and started his narrative.

"As you can see, Windsor is a quiet town, and it's rare for us to have such a case. So you would have guessed that hearing the report of the missing boy in the middle of the night had set us to quiet a panic. Having said all that, we were at the house with in fifteen minutes of the report."

"Wait. What time was it when you had gotten the report?" inquired my friend.

"It was no more than forty and two in the morning. So we could say we were here before three." said he with a frown in an effort to remember the exact time.

"And I believe it is rare for anyone to be out in that time?"

"Of course! I believe three in the morning I rather an unusual time for anyone to be out anywhere!" exclaimed the local detective.

"Thank you for the clarification. Pray do proceed with your story." He said sitting back once more.

"Once we were here, we proceeded right away to the room guided by one of the servants. Mrs. Clifton was crying, leaving Mr. Clifton to explain us the case. I immediately proceeded to the room, and left the other two to search outside for any clues. It was possible that the criminal was still near the place, and I hoped to catch him red-handed. We did not have such luck, but I did get few useful clues from this room. Well, we can obviously say that the man we are looking for is really a man, and has no chance of being a woman. That is seen in the foot marks. Also, we can say that the person came prepared to transport something since he brought a wagon of some sort if I am correct. The man might be big and muscular if he is to carry a struggling child with no problem. He made his way from the front gate to the room's window, forced it open and got in. It is possible that he has harmed the boy, maybe even had taken his life, in the bed causing blood to spill. Then he carried the supposed to be struggling boy and the dog out the window, and took them away to somewhere else."

"They are the obvious theory you could have by seeing the room, though you got some parts wrong, and missed terribly lot of things." The London detective said with a bit of sneer. "It is by all means not a wagon but rather a sleigh. Why would anyone bring a sleigh when it is not snowing? A wagon would have served the purpose better. You also slipped-up in the fact that the man was big; he should be no taller than five feet and half tall."

"Impossible! What is your proof, Sir? I have made my theory based on the facts, and would not get insulted like this without a proof." Countered Mr. Standerson, insulted by my friend's sneer.

"His stride will tell you his height. Even if he does have smaller stride then average, he still can be no taller than five foot six. If you check on the tracks left on the mud, the lines are fine yet deep. It is an impression of a blade not a wheel. So what has two blades and is used to transport things? The answer is a sleigh. Also, let me tell you that the window was not forced open. It was either already left unlocked, or it was opened from the inside. You missed several other clues, like his tobacco ash. But I would rather keep that to myself for the time being. Do not worry Mr. Standerson. I would revile everything once the time is ripe. But for now, I would rather go my own way in this tangled case. I have a lot more to learn." said he in a calm and sure voice. His eyes were bright with excitement and his body was ready to bounce out of the chair and continue is study.

I in the other hand had just sat there on the chair once again devouring Holmes in my own way. His curves and his pale colour, his deep yet technical voice, his locks and his eyelash…. I had absorbed and memorized every detail about him while he was busy explaining his findings.

"Watson, we better go now. The sun had set, and we still do not have a place to lodge. Do pardon us, Mr. Standerson, but we would take our exit for today. I do believe we will be seeing each other in a very short while. Good bye for now!" with that Holmes marched out of the door, with me following his trail, leaving the officer stunt.

Holmes was happy to know that the case was an interesting one. What he did not know was that I did not have the guts to stay with him that night, for I believe I did not have the enough self control as of that moment. I was afraid what I might do over the course of the night…


	8. Chapter 8

First, let me thank all the favorites and the reviews! Thank you all!

Okay back to business! (laugh) In this chapter, my main question was "to be or not to be". Well, I am sure you don't get what I mean. Pray let me explain. I was pondering over if I should have some "lemon" in this story or not, and if I am, this is the perfect chapter. I would not spoil the story by announcing the conclusion of my tiny problem, but pray do be prepared for whatever is to come. Hope you do enjoy this chapter, and pray do review it if you have some time!

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><p>Chapter eight… hours of the dark<p>

Holmes had insisted that we walk to the nearest inn, rather than catching a cab. It was a clear evening, and soon after we were walking slowly in the country side road. My companion was quiet, with his brows knitted, and is eyes bright. He had, I believe, formed a theory and was testing it. I, in the other hand, was busy looking for an excuse to have my own room, for I could not imagine being in the same quarters as Holmes in the state I was in.

"Watson, what do you make out the case, now that you have new data?" Holmes was indeed ignoring the event that kept bothering my mind. I sometimes wonder how he managed to switch off his mind from anything as he pleased. Was it just an act to conceal his real agitation, or was it that he truly did not care about the thing that moment?

"It's still dark to me, Holmes." I said in a calm manner despite all the questions I wanted to scream at him. "I did not gain anything from this trip as of the moment. Though it seems to differ for you."

"Hum! You should observe more and space out less. What is the matter with you to-day? No matter. I have gotten my clues. Faster, my dear Watson. Let us try to get ourselves a room before the clock hits eight."

It was exactly eight in the evening when we reached the nearest Inn available. It was a small two story house, with more or less five rooms. We were meet by a pleasant looking lady who gave us an warm smile.

"I'm sorry Sir, but only one room is currently available. You see, we are the only place you can lodge within a mile radius."

"It's not a problem. We will take the room. It is okay for you, is it not, Watson?" My companion said in a relaxed manner, and sharing a room was not of a great deal for him. Why would it be? We shared rooms several times, and we do live in the same compartment. If it's not for my confusion, I too would have gladly accepted the offer. But now was not the time to spend a night with him. I was afraid for my actions that might take place within the hours of the dark. Before I could voice out my opinion, we were lead to the room, and have already settled down.

The room was of an acceptable size for two to stay, with a big double bed, and a table at the middle. We were served our dinner, which remained untouched by both. Holmes dragged his chair by the window, and leaned back. He pulled out his pipe, and started puffing on it.

"I wish I had brought along my violin. A fine night like this is best accompanied by a song." said he in a disappointed tone.

"Homles." I finally had the guts to utter a word.

"Yes?" he replied indifferently.

"We need to talk." said I, trying my best not to stammer. He just raised a questioning eye brow, and waited for me to continue. "Until when are you going to ignore what has happened today?"

"Ahh, fate has finally taken its toll. Pray do pardon me about this afternoon, my dear Watson. It seems like I had committed the great mistake of acting out of emotions. I thought you would rather avoid the topic, but I do commend you for bringing it up. A problem avoided is not a problem solved, but rather a problem left to tangle more. Since we have all the knots in our hand why not work on untangling it? I would ignore it no more. So pray do say your statement." He answered in a workmanlike manner, freeing himself of all emotions.

"If you put it that way, I will make my statement." I said with a hint of anger. I was both annoyed and embarrassed how sentimental I was over a matter Holmes treated like work. "What is it that you want me to understand?"

"You are indeed quite slow today." said he dryly. But as much as he tried to hide it, I saw the bit of panic in his eyes. It was not that he did not care. He hid all his emotions deep inside him.

"My apologies if I am. Now tell me, with your own mouth, what is it that you would like me to understand?"

"Watson, like I said, I confess that I kissed you that night." His panic was more evident.

"Yes. And what is it from that you would want me to gain?" my voice was firm. I was just too close from screaming at him.

"And I told you that I could do more if it's to make you understand." His mask was almost shattered. His voice started show its distress, and his brows turned to a frown.

"This isn't like you Holmes. Get to your point. Tell me once and for all, what is it that you want me know." My voice was raised and my fist was clenched. Why was I getting so worked up over this?

"Watson…I…desire you. Okay?" This was reason I was worked up. I knew it was coming, but I denied it inside of me. I was not slow today, but rather too sharp that I realized right off how he felt and stayed "blind" about it. My head spine with emotions, and my heart beat was dangerously fast. My faced was hot and I knew that I was blushing just like a lady. Holmes gave a sigh.

"I knew it would do you no good." His emotions too were exposed, and he freely showed how worried he was. My legs lost its strength and I wobbled down to the floor. Holmes quickly came to my aid, and helped me to the bed. I sat their blankly, not knowing what to say. My companion gave a little frown, and then sighed once more. He pushed me down with one hand, startling me. I was about to fight back, both him and my own desires when I realized he was just tucking me in bed.

"Go to sleep, my dear Watson. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. You will serve me no good if you can't even stand straight." We said in his dry voice once again. He had compressed his emotions and went back being the mechanical thinker he is.

"Wait. I hadn't said reply yet."

"You are free to punch me if you wish." He said, talking a step forward. I grabbed his arm, pulled him forward and our lips meet. His eyes grew big, and showed hesitation if he should break the kiss or prolong it. He finally relaxed and choose the latter, grabbed hold of my wrist, refusing to let go. By ears buzzed and my head was filled not with guilt but rather pleasure. Even if it was just a kiss, it was hot and passionate. The law did not matter one bit to me as of the moment, and I would have not mind if they were to hang me for this night.


	9. Chapter 9

Good day to you all. Well, even before I start this chapter's introduction, let me warn all those who have no interested in Watson and Holmes's love life to skip this chapter. I will resume with the mystery by the next chapter, but pray pardon my imagination until then. This chapter is dedicated to my Shwatsonlock fandom. If you too are a big fan of these two hooking up, pray do go on ahead and enjoy!

let me thank all the reviews, watches and favorites. i am motivated to continue thanks to all of you. this chapter will be short but intense, but i honestly did not know how to go with the chapter... so pardon me if i kind of ended it hanging.

Caution! This chapter will be rated "M" for STRONG slashes… (laugh)

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><p>Chapter 9… the sins<p>

I gasped for breath as our lips finally parted. I tried asking Holmes to calm down a bit, but our lips meet even before I said the first word. He eagerly undid my shirt, and gently kissed my cheek, making his way down to my neck. I gave shudder of pleasure as his fingertips traced my body. I felt his locks brush against my skin as he made is way down to my chest, and was surprised how soft it was.

"Holmes! Stop…" I stammered as pleasure took over my mind. I clearly felt even the lightest touch of his cool lips, almost driving me mad. He ignored my plea, and continued caressing me, slowly, aggressively. He removed his own shirt, and pushed me down. I felt a hint of fright tingling inside me, seeing how easily this man can overcome me. I believe he saw the fear in my eyes, for he blinked once, bit on his lips, and then flopped right on top of me, whispering.

"My apologies, dear Watson." I could barely hear his voice. "I think I got a bit too excited. No need to fear." He was containing his emotions once again.

"Be honest, will you? Don't hide from me." I said with a frown. He just shrugged. Anger and impatience rose for no reason. "If you won't I'll make you."

With that I pulled him back down, and kissed him. He refused at first, trying to keep his cool, but I too was persistent. He soon fell for the pleasure, and continued where he stopped. He pulled my pants down, with me struggling no as the last protection against my ego. I knew ever since, that he would never be willing to be the "bottom" in a relationship. He had too much pride for that. But I never had imagine that our desire will take us this far. We were going against the church and the law, and could be hanged for our act, though officers usually choose to keep their eyes closed in such cases. But for now that was not what mattered, but rather my fast racing heart, fuzzy mind, the heat and Holmes's touch was preoccupying my thoughts.

"Keep still, Watson." said He. I felt my body tense. "Relax."

And he entered me. I gave out a little whelp of pain, and then had no choice but to relax. He started to move and my head dazed with pain and pleasure, not sure on which I should react. I let of a shy moan of pleasure, and clanged on to my partner.

Just like that we carried on indulged in our sins, fulfilling out desires, and forgetting about reality, even if it was just for the night…


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: the secrets behind the woods

It was almost nine when the morning rays shone at my face, waking me up. I expected Holmes to be up and about, busy untangling the strings of the missing boy, but was surprise to see him still snoring slightly beside me. I stared at him for a bit, unsure how I should react with last night event. He mumbled a bit, and then turned facing me with a baby-like expression of peace, which I saw for the first time. I suddenly felt self-conscious how close we were, and scrambled out of bed as fast as I could manage. I quickly dressed and asked for breakfast which was served by the same lady who was in the counter previous night. She slightly blushed at the sight of my naked companion in bed, and I quickly realized how I was not of proper sense to let a young lady in the room of a nude bachelor. I thanked her and asked her out, falling into the chair as soon as the door shut.

"What is just wrong with you, Watson?" I muttered at myself with frustration and annoyance, both of my stupidity and uncertainness.

"Well, my dear Watson, you should just learn to calm down and think realistically. Is it toast and bacon we were served?" I got an unexpected reply, and was shock to see my friend up and dressed in a robe. I was not sure how I should response with the simply question he asked.

"You sure seem to surprise me. Pray do sit and have breakfast with me. Yes, it is bacon with wheat toast, but I could ask for something else if you please." I answered with some degree of formality resulting to my tense and confusion. Holmes just raised a questioning eye brow, and then sat opposite to me.

"We do not have time for breakfast, but I would not mind waiting for you to finish. I had delayed the case enough, and would like to start right away. I got all of the clues in my hand, and I believe our vacation here in Windsor is coming to an end." He said with the same twinkle in his eyes I see every single case. Before ten, I had finished my toast, Holmes dressed, and we found ourselves once again in the house of the Clifton.

I was about to knock on the door when Holmes grabbed me by the arm and shake his head no. He quietly led me to the back of the house, motioning me to not leave any tracks. Once we were directly in front of the window of the boy's room, he stared down at the fading tracks, which were almost unrecognizable to my eyes. Then he followed the track, just like a hound on a scent, to a meadow nearby. The tracks stopped there, impossible to place where it continues. Instead of turning around, we just walked straight ahead, entering a small forest-like area after few hundred yards. Holmes hummed a little song which I was familiar with but cannot remember where I heard it. The walk was a surprisingly peaceful one, with my companion calm and relaxed. It made me wonder what is going through his mind, how he could walk around humming a song so peacefully.

We had walked quite a bit and the meadow was not visible by the time we reached a small wooden house concealed in the woods. He turned around the house once, inspecting every detail, with me waiting nearby. The windows were covered by a curtain, but it was evident that there were people inhabiting the place. After a thorough observation of the place Holmes nodded with satisfaction and eagerly made his way to the door. He gave quick loud knocks, and I heard the rustle inside. Whoever was in the other side was hesitating if he is to open the door or not. After what I presume to be a minute or two, the door finally creaked open, and a man who seems to be no taller than I stood. His light brown locks reflected the soft morning rays and his caramel eyes full of fear and doubt, but glistening from the light. His left arm was heavily bandaged, I could tell that is was pretty swollen.

"Mr. Clifton? What on earth are you doing here in the middle of the woods?" inquired I, surprised to find the boy's father out here, not by the side of his beautiful wife.

"Do I know you?" asked he in confusion as he failed to recognize me. I opened my mouth of protest how it was only yesterday we saw each other, until Holmes cut in and took a polite bow.

"Wonderful morning, Mr. Clifton. I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my good friend, Dr. Watson. If you could spear some time for us, we would be delighted to have a little conversation with you." Greeted he in such politeness that I frequently see from him when it would do him a favor.

"I would rather not have anyone in my humble home, but if you insist…" trailed off the man as he decided whether to receive us or not.

"I insist." Replied my companion with such firmness that after a few moments of silence, Mr. Clifton nodded and we were inside the small wooden house. Connected right to the entrance was a sitting room, made to welcome no more than three visitors. There was a shut door parallel to the entrance, and a little kitchen was present in one corner. We sat on the arm chairs near the fire place, though it was not lit, as we all each took out a tobacco to smoke. Once we all had settled down, Mr. Clifton cleared his throat and queried us.

"What is that you seek from me?"

"I believe you are Mr. Joseph Clifton, am I right?" answered Holmes.

"Yes, I am. A mere zoologist, who is currently studying the life cycle and behavior of the wolves located in Russia. I am here for as a vacation for I missed my hometown after four long years of absence." He gave short introduction of himself, confusing me just more.

"Was not Mr. Clifton's first name James?" a frown formed as I tried think if my memory served me right.

"James is my twin brother." Answered he.

"Twin brother! That's is a new fact to me!" I gasp as the second Mr. Clifton stared at my companion.

"You are not surprised, my good sir. You seem to quite know a lot of things. May I know please hear how you got the information on where this house was located here? It is very well concealed, and not known by a single person for I highly favor privacy. Also, how much do you know about me and my brother, and for what purpose?" Addressed he to the detective.

"Very well, after all it is my knowledge I came here to test. As I would be frank with you, I wish you to be frank with me. I would give the rough draft of what has happened and I just wish you to fill in details I failed to gasp. I will explain how I acquired my knowledge along the process. I wish you no harm, pray let me remind you. I am here to aid and advice. If the terms are all set, let me start."

"I would like to start by mentioning the fact that the reason I am here in the first place is to solve the interesting case of the missing Jeremiah Clifton. Now, please do not act as if you lack teh knowledge, for I am sure you are aware of your nephew's absence. I was requested by Mrs. Annalisa Clifton to look for him, and that is how I gotten myself all I know now. I was honored by getting the chance to inspect the scene of the crime first hand, and found quite some interesting facts. First of all, as I mentioned to Mr. Standerson, the criminal is not of a great size as he had believe he is. His argument was that one needs to be strong to carry out a boy and a big dog, but we will get to that later. Second, the criminal is a frequent smoker, for little ashes of tobacco were found in the room, but I could not find any clumps. That implies that the smoker had not smoked in the room, but rather had smoke considerably a large amount somewhere else. The little bit of ashes had piled up and stuck to his clothing, leaving some traces behind where ever he went. Third, the person was highly familiar with handling dogs, for when the dog had attack, he had managed to stay calm, and call the dog off. The blood on the sheet was not of the boys but rather the intruders. You could say by the sheer amount shed and the lack of weapon and its traces. The blood was obviously spilled by a violent mean by the way the sheet was stained, but not a knife by the way it had splattered. No gun shots were heard, and the stain was messier than of a blow in the head. Then it was obviously a struggle. By what? The paw prints gave it away. Even though it was all smudged and almost unrecognizable in the animal's effort to bring down whatever he is struggling with if you know what you are looking for, it is highly impossible to miss. There are several more clues that I would be pleased to discuss, but it would not be of interest for you, will it?" asked Holmes after is long narration on jut three clues that the local officers had totally missed. Mr. Clifton was pale and slightly shaking for a reason unknown to me.

"Mr. Holmes, please just say your point." Answered he in a shaking voice, just barely able to produce the sentence.

"I would prefer it that way to. So is all I said until now true, Mr. Clifton?" inquired the London detective with a great twinkle of excitement and delight.

"Yes. I could not add anything more to those three details."

"Very well, let me continue. Jeremiah opened the window himself, as a response to the knock. It took you a while to convince him to open the window, and the dog was barking the whole time. Once you entered, the dog bit you and you had enough sense to stay calm and not pull you arm out, which could had lead to bigger injury, but rather ordered the dog to let go. Being a zoologist you know all is there to know about dog behavior and managed to control the dog. You asked both the dog and the boy to step out of the window, and made the boy to ride the sleigh while you made the dog pull. Jeremiah is noted to be friendly and playful and would have most probably trusted you right off. You being identical to his dad, the young boy did not refuse your companionship and orders, but rather enjoyed them. That is a very wild and dangerous assumption to make by me, but I believe I am not wrong. I was first lost why would anyone kidnap a child, but not harm him or ask for ransom. I found the motive missing. That was until last night. After Watson fell asleep, I headed out right away to the nearest bar, hoping to get some new facts. They were at first unwilling to talk, but after a few mugs as my treat they began opening up. Once inquired about the Clifton's the lady started gossiping none-stop about the rumors five years ago. Apparently, Mr. Clifton has been away to London for four months when Mrs. Clifton announced that she is pregnant. Of course they presumed the baby to be born at the latest half a year later, considering Mr. Clifton has not been around for four months. After hearing the news about their first child, Mister Clifton rushed down within the next two months, finishing hi business as fast as possible. They waited for another four months, expecting the baby to be born, but he never was. Mrs. Clifton's belly was bloated, an obvious sign of pregnancy. And then finally, after four months of delay, their first child was born, and that is Jeremiah. The Doctors could not explain the delay, but the child seemed to be of normal age and size. This caused the neighbors to believe that Mrs. Clifton had been unfaithful to her husband, for it would have mean that she had conceived when he was not around. But as the boy grew, he looked exactly like his father, erasing all doubts and rumors about the said couple. They just believed that this was an extraordinary case, wherein she had been pregnant for four and ten months, instead of the normal ten. Also some are saying that the couple had secretly met up sometime in the past without the neighbors' knowledge. Now all I had to do is to separate the facts and the mere rumors. And this is my conclusion…"

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><p>to be continued in Chapter 11<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

The last chapter might not have made sense to some of my readers… pray do forgive me for that. The way Holmes has describe his clues is somehow the way I talk when I start going scientific, and did not realize I might have been boring some until I reread it few days later. But I hope you fully understood and enjoyed the little details the case had to offer, and by now had created your own theory of this case. Our little yet dramatic trip to Windsor is indeed coming to an end, but I pray that you will be with us until the last word of this story.

Pray do enjoy the latest chapter!

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><p>Chapter 11: Queen of the meadow (part I)<p>

Six little feet briskly ran through the green meadow, snapping branches and kicking pebbles along the way. They giggled as they pushed and pulled each other, falling to the soft grass every now and then. The sun was up high, the sky was blue, and the birds sang in the trees nearby.

The golden locks glistened as the wind gently tickled the girl, making her hold unto her lovely hair. Two pairs of light brown tresses bobbed up and down, as they wrestled each other over the little yellow posy they had picked. They both wished to present it to the lovely girl, who just stood nearby, giggling at the two. Finally, one was able to snatch it free, and quickly gave it to their little "queen", before the other had a chance to steal it back. Once the flower was in her hands, she beamed with joy and gave a little kiss to both. Timid and shy they were for their cheeks blushed red and their eyes drifted off to the woods nearby.

Tender days it was for them, young and innocent, sheltered from the cruel, harsh world with love and care. Many days would she promise her hand in marriage to both, and several times they ought to take her home. They all wished a family of three, consisting of her and the twins. Little did they know that one day she would have to choose one of the twins, and that life does not go was simply as they wished.

As the sun bids the meadows goodbye with a bright show of red and orange lights, two ladies will call their children home. Unhappily will they toddle to their mothers, disappointed how fast the day had ended. To their warm house, they each made their way, the little ones glancing back to their playground every now and then. Comforted their guardian how fast tomorrow will come, and how they can go back to play. All three will eagerly wait for the sun to rise again, imagining the day the sun rays will bring.

Soon the sun of their childhood had set, and moonlit night of their adolescences came. But little did they wish for the sun to rise again, and they soon forgot how warm the rays were. The boys were sent to town to study, and before long their promise had had been disregard. Slowly they forgotten their little princess, and in time she was a stranger to them. The girl too, had her own world to live in, and she had not dwelled in the past. She soon forgot the days they had ran through the envy coloured meadow, and her childhood playmates seldom crossed her mind. Only the meadows were the wild flowers grew, missed the laughter and giggle they had once heard.

Every now and then will the brothers remember the golden glisten of her hair; but its owner they failed to recall, even if it has not been so long. Laugh, they will, of the golden days, as their caramel eyes twinkled in their funned memories. Yet the promise never came back to them, still hidden deep in the past.

In the rare days when the girl sees a yellow flower, once presented to her, will she give a little smile. Slowly seeped in the forgotten days of laughter in the meadow, the caramel coloured eyes, and the soft grass they tumbled on. But other than that always remained dark to her, and before her promise will be remembered again, she will abandon the topic in her thoughts. She will drift back to reality, forgetting once more the days that the insignificant posy had help recall.

Their days past fats, and soon it has become years. All of them had meet a lover at least once in their short life as a young adult, some leaving them quickly, others staying a bit. But none of them truly filled the empty hole in their hearts, for it was promised in the days of their early childhood. Even if their memories had forgot, their hearts still remembered who they truly belong with.

Unsure why they all felt so empty, longing for something unknown to them, they grew up to be fine adults. The sun had finally began showing its lights, and it was not long before the gentle rays were to warm their lives again. The older of the twins pressured to study about living things, his love for nature and life still burning hot just as he was a child. An honor student he was, he soon graduated with sponsor to aid him in his life. In his time of success, he never remembered his hometown, and never once visited the place of his birth. He was out in the world, happy yet lonely, busy drowning in the knowledge he wish to gain.

The younger one in the other hand made his way to the world through business. He had always admired the structure and official looking man the major town had to offer. He stayed behind while his brother went off, and soon opened his own shop with whatever little he had. But as a gentle and naïve young lad he was he found the job hard and demanding and his business soon failed. Devastated by the turn of fate, he returned to the place of his childhood for the first time after he had left. It had not changed much since then, and once the train had stopped into the familiar scenery, memories rushed back into the young man. He soon found himself thinking of only one thing; the owner of the lovely golden locks, their little princess, the forgotten link in his life; Annalisa.

Instead of rushing back to his parents, he found his way easily through the curves and grassy path and stopped in front of a two story house with a garden of wild yellow flowers in the front. Unsure what he is to do next, he just ended up lingering near, walking back and forth the path way to the said house. Unsure if the person he is looking for still lives in the place, he argued to himself if he is to knock on the door, or just turn back. Unable to have the courage to look for the girl, he turned around to leave for his own home.

"Joseph? Is that you!" screamed a lovely young lady from the door of the house, as she too finally remembered all the details of her days in the meadow. How she craved the twins, especially the older of the two, whom she was always secretly more funned of. She could vividly remember the eager yet gentle shine on their eyes, and she hoped to stare back at it once more.

"Annalisa? I did not recognize you! And no, this is not Joseph, but James." Said the man with a voice mixed with excitement, doubt, joy and pain. The girl, now a stunning lady, calling out his brother's name rather than his had indeed hurt him more than he imagined it to have. But the joy of seeing her after all these years over-came whatever downbeat emotions he had at the moment.

Despite the fact that the man in front of her was the younger of the two, she still beamed with joy and ran straight into his arms, giving him a hug. This had sent the man to a bit of panic, but seconds later, he too returned the hug, and the two stood there, connected by the simple gesture of affection.

"Not a single letter, James! It been years, and I must be honest, I forgot about you and your brother after some times. But how much I missed you both deep inside, how much I hoped to see you again! I am two and twenty already, and you must be five and twenty. What took you so long to come back to your place of birth!" cried she with excitement and joy, not bothering to hide the over-whelming emotions inside her.

"It is a long story Ann." said he using the nickname they had called her as a child. After all these years of emptiness and loneliness, he finally felt at home and ease, contented and happy to be alive and breathing. "We too have forgotten you for a short while, only being able to remember these forever lovely locks of yours. But how empty our hearts were without you dear, our little princess, our queen of the green meadows."

"Oh please James, we are not kids anymore." She said with a joyous giggle as they let go of each other. She gave a little peck in his cheeks, but this time, instead of blushing and looking away, he returned it with his own. But still innocent at heart, she took it as a sign of friendship even after all the years of separation. What she had not realize is that the boy in front of her was no longer a boy but a fine young lad who was determine to keep his promise of wedding her.

Rushed the lady into the house with the man of her childhood, and she begged for him to tell her of his life. Unable to go out of her country-side town, she wished to know and hear all about the world outside. Several days will he come back and talk to her about his life and his journey, and she too will fill in the details of the town, the gossip, the lives and events of the town he had missed. She would frequently inquire about his brother, but he too would not be able to provide much for it has been years since they parted ways and not much of him was heard.

Without anyone realizing, the two started to fall for each other. By the time it had been a year since he has came back, they were engaged, their promises years and years ago about to be full-filled. He asked her to go to the bigger town with him, to start a business, and build a family in a place where they could give good education. But too attached to her home town she was, she refused and begged him to stay with her. But to the bigger towns he belongs, after their wedding, he asked her to wait for him, promised her to be back soon, and left to start something new to support him and his wife.

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><p>Queen of the meadow (part II) to be continued in chapter twelve….<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

I would be honest and confess that I was very much tempted not to continue this little story of mine so closed to the end. But without further delay, Chapter 12 is here. :)

first, thank you for the reviews, favorites and watches! It means a lot to me. Also, sorry for the tons of errors I failed to see. Pardon me and I promise to edit them out sometime soon. For now please enjoy the current chapter.

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><p>Chapter 12, Queen of the Meadows (part II)<p>

It had been almost three months since they have been proclaimed man and wife. The first week of their marriage was joyous, as everyone agreed that they were meant for each other. But once he has set out to the town of his education, she was left alone to drench in the loneliness. Days were slow as she sat by the window, remembering her cherished time. She hoped, wished and prayed how her husband were back by her side, supplying her with the affection she craved. She silently eyed the scenery by her window, hoping for a miracle that her man was here to surprise her with a visit.

The soft sun slowly helped her fall asleep, and she closed her eyes welcoming herself to the pitch black calmness. Unaware of the minutes that flew, once she opened her eyes again, the sun was setting. What surprised her more was the man just at the other side of the glass, startled to see her wake up so suddenly. Her heart skipped a beat, as the brown curls reflected the orange and red lights of the sun. Was that really her husband she longed so much, or was it a mere trick of an eye? After a second, the man turned and speed to a jog. Desperate and confused, she opened the window and called out for the man she loved so dearly.

"James? James! Is that you?" she cried as she longingly called the man back. Wavered by her voice, he slowed down and turned around meeting her eyes. "Oh, it's you James! It's you! How I missed you!"

"No, Ann. It's me, Joseph." With that her whole world seemed to crumble down. Her emotions overflowed as her loneliness and joy mixed up with guilt of wanting to be in his arms. They both stood still as they tried to calculate their next move, unsure of what to say and do. Finally, she broke down weeping both of joy and anger.

"Oh, Joseph! It cannot be you! But how horrible will it be if it was not you! You did not show for years, I did not hear from you even at my wedding! And now you show up, months after I wed your brother, just standing in front of my window."

"I am truly sorry, Ann, for not keeping in touch and not being able to attend your wedding." There was a hint of sorrow at the second reason. He secretly did not want her to be wed to another man but him. It did not matter if the man was his twin, for he passionately loved her, maybe more than he loved his brother. But alas, he was too late, and she was taken by no other than his twin.

"How impolite of me to leave you out like this, but it would be unacceptable to invite a man when I am alone. What will the people say once they knew! But no one has to know, and you are here right now. I am afraid you will fly away once again if I let you go your way. I must insist that you do come in right at this moment and tell me your excuse for not sending a single letter." She said with her usual firm voice, and a shaky smile.

That a smile to his face. She was still the same Annalisa he knew, the same Ann he loved. She was firm but gentle, determined to have things her way. He made his way in the house, and they spent on the hours end filling each other up on details they missed, sharing regrets and happiness that they failed to share before. By bed time, they were both happy and very much in love. She led him the way of the house with the promise that he will be back as soon as possible. Once they were at the door, saying their final good bye for the day, he kissed her. It took her by surprised, but she did not hate it. As their lips lingered, guilt finally over took her emotions and she broke free. Her faced formed a troubled frown as he cocked his head questioning it.

"This is not the way it supposed to be, Joseph…" she murmured in a low tone as she closed the door to the man she truly loved.

They met a few times more after, but always away from the eyes of the public, quietly in the heart of her home. The house was once again filled with joy of a loving couple, but this time with a different man than it was meant for. Even if their looks were identical, their rights were not, for the younger had the right to her while he did not. The law proclaimed the older twin a bachelor, and she married to another man, thus they were committing a sin under the eyes of the law and the church. But their hearts were true, and their emotions pure, and one day he stayed later than usual. That night they committed a sin that had formed out of passion and love, but unacceptable to any society. They shared the bed not meant for the both of them, and spent the night together.

The next day, he asked her to run with him. That made her confused and scared. She loved her town dearly, and as much as she loved Joseph, she loved James too. She finally told him to leave her to think about it, not to show up to her until she can sort her feelings out. In the end, she left him heartbroken, and he left for Russia. Nobody knew about anything.

Around a month later, she proclaimed that she was pregnant.


	13. Chapter 13

It's chapter 13, and the story is really close to the end. Lots of readers thought that the last chapter was 12, but please do continue reading the few more chapters to come I hope you guys have enjoyed it until now!

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><p>Chapter 13: The Unheard Melancholy Cry<p>

"You are obviously Jeremiah's father, for it will be scientifically and practically impossible for Mr. James Clifton to impregnate Mrs. Annalisa Clifton while he was away and unaware." said Sherlock Holmes in an unreadable tone. The glisten to excitement in his eyes had subsided to a more calculating look. It was obvious that he was trying to guess the next move of the fellow in front of us. Mr. Clifton's brows knitted into an angry frown then relaxed after a few second.

"I knew someday, someone will find out our sins. Ann should have run away with me when I asked her. "He grumbled to himself. "So Mr. Holmes, was it? What does this have to do with you, or the case of Jeremiah going missing?"

"You are making it hard for both of us." Holmes said flatly. "You do know how all this is connected. But if you insist, I would ask you to call out Jeremiah right now. It is ill to keep such a young lad away from his parents after all." At the latter comment, Mr. Clifton scowled.

"I too am his parent, if you put it that way." The statement was just answered by a shrug. Out of the blue, Holmes started to hum the same old tune that I have been hearing for the past few days. I fidgeted on my sit uncomfortably, as the sad tune echoed in the tiny house. After a few minutes, the door connected to the sitting room creaked open, and little boy and a huge dog picked out of it.

"Jeremiah!" an angry voice roared triggering the black mongrel to bark. The little head bobbed back into the room, obviously frightened. Once the bark died down, Mr. Clifton regained his cool, and called the boy out. His golden curls and caramel eyes were a perfect mixture of his parents, and even at this young age, the boy was promised to grow into a handsome man.

"Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, This is the boy you are looking for, Jeremiah Clifton." There was a minute or two of silence, before the detective stood up and made his way to the door. I stared blankly at him until I realized he was to leave the place, and hastily went after him. Once out, he turned around, and gave a bow.

"I do wish pardon for my visit today. I will be back in a short while, and I do hope you will be kind enough to care for the boy and his dog until then." He quickly paced through the forest, leaving our host stunned, and I to run after him.

"Holmes? Holmes! Should we not take the boy with us?" I inquired in a bit of panic, unable to understand my partner's agenda. "Holmes? Are you listening? Holmes!"

"Silence, Watson!" the outburst took me by surprised, and I would be lying if I said that I was not offended. A second later, he gave apology. "Pardon me, but I just have too much on my mind. This is dangerous, Watson, but it's not our place to take the boy with us. We should hurry, or it might be too late." We hurried to our client's place, I still unable to fully grasp the twist and turns of this case.

Holmes just barged into the little house, still in his hard-to-catch-up pace. He made his way in to the room where the couple was, not waiting for the invitation.

"Why, Mr. Holmes, it is extremely rude of you to enter my house without invitation." Cried Mr. Clifton with a hint of anger, but more surprised than angry.

"Why, please do accept my apologies, but I am bit in a hurry. I have found your boy." answered he politely.

"Where is he! Is he alright? Why in the world did you not bring him back?" questions exploded at the news of their boys, and Holmes impatiently taped the floor with his foot, waiting for silence. Once the room had regained the gloomy silence, Holmes spoke up.

"Your boy is safe, at least for now. It was not my place to bring him to you, but rather it is your duty to bring him back. We do not have much time, and if we linger any longer, I could not grantee young Jeremiah's safety. Please grab your coat, for we need to head out this instant."

We wasted no time, and soon enough we found ourselves once again running through the green meadow that reflected the last bit of sun light. It was getting dark as we made our way around the trees and finally reached the little house in the middle of nowhere. The door was wide open, with the warm orange lights softly seeping out to the dark forest floor. Stephan was barking loudly, with a soft whine every now and then. Holmes led the way, with me just a few steps away from him. The Cliftons were just behind, eager to see their beloved son once again. But within the small, warm house, hold an unexpected horror. The little sitting room was drenched with blood, and at the middle of it lay the dog panting and barking, unable to get up. Few feet away was a man holding a crying boy, pointing a pistol at his head.

Screams filled the room, and anger roared as the two brothers saw each other.

"What's wrong with you, James? Let my boy go!" growled the younger of the two.

"Your boy? Pardon me, but he is rightfully mine. I could not bear if any longer. You stole away my love, my hometown, now my child. I'll claim what I deserve."

With that there were two loud "bangs!" and the boy slumped to the ground. James Clifton screamed as the bullet fired by Holmes hit his arm, but it was too late. The young and beautiful Jeremiah Clifton was dead. Mrs. Clifton rushed to the boy's side, crying in horror and disgust. How could her boy just die in front of her? Mr. Joseph Clifton just froze where he stood, unable to grasp what had happen. Among the sobs and angry cry of the mother, we heard the last blast of the pistol. Mr. James Clifton was dead.

Holmes sadly shook his head and walk out of this tragic place.

"We failed, my dear Watson. It has been extremely interesting on my part, but it had cost a young boy and his father's lives. But it was not my place to interfere, for the tragedy had started when they both fell in "love" with her. How foolish human beings can be. Now, all that is left is to call the police and hear this melancholy cry that would be left unheard otherwise…"

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><p>to be continued in chapter 14...<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

We are finally at the last chapter! Thank you all readers who had faithfully read up to this episode! I was slow in updating and I am really grateful for your patience!

There will be a related, though not directly continuing, story coming up entitled "Secrets of the Smoky Room." Please do take time R&R the next story too! All your support, time and words were highly appreciated!

Thanks you once again for enjoying this story and I pray you would able to fully enjoy the last chapter of "the Unheard Melancholic Cry"

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><p>Chapter 14: Finale, the Smog Covered City<p>

The whole London was dark and quiet, be it day or night. It was one of those periods were the brown, stuffy smog covered every inch of breathing air. Nobody in their right mind went out of their dwelling, unless they had important business to attend to. Even then, they would always hail themselves a cab to avoid the musty atmosphere. It has been two weeks since the case had brought us to Winsor. For now, we were both back in our humble compartment of the great city. Holmes was fairly busy hearing the court case and presenting as an eye witness of the murder of Young Jeremiah Clifton, murdered by the late James Clifton. The true story was never published nor reviled. As far as the whole England was concerned, James Clifton was simply the victim's uncle who was over raged with Jealousy and hate. It was partly true, and we decided to keep it that way. Their tragic love story was to be kept a secret along with our other collections of never ending misfortune by no means to be told to the public. It was their privacy, and he had respected as he had always done.

After the hearing was over, and James Clifton pronounced guilty without question, we went back to quietly spending our days. The smog kept us home by the fireplace, and even the daily newspaper went silence. Luckily Holmes was still fresh from the latest account, and had not yet overdosed himself on his collection of cocaine and morphine. But he would always keep me on the lookout for his latest burst of emotion and drug dependency.

Naturally, he never mentioned of the night when he bedded me. And my pride as a man would never allow me to bring the topic up. With this I believed my little affair with my closest friend were to end here, to be lost in Winsor. I would be able safely and silently wed my fiancé. All I had to do was to suppress my feelings as I had always done.

The clock had just hit four in the afternoon, but it seemed like it was middle of the night. Dark and quiet, we both pretended to be concentrated on the bold lettered books on our hands. But as the time ticked I could not bear the silence of the room, scared that we would be sucked into nothingness, robbing me of my home, stealing my joy and worst taking Holmes away from me. Then it had hit me for the first time that the marriage will do the exact same thing. It would take my bachelorhood along with everything else I cherished now.

"Holmes?" I muttered a small whisper in desperation, horrified of the lost I would have from this privilege.

"Hmm?" Holmes replied freely, before glancing up and seeing the terror in my eyes. I hid it well, but Holmes was sharper than I wished him to be. "What is it, my dear Watson?"

"Just would like to inform you that I would be moving out three days before my marriage. I would be fixing up a small practice, and would like to get things ready and neat before we would move in." I cringed a bit at the "we". It had surprised me how the "we" did not refer to Holmes and I but rather someone else.

Holmes stared at me with an unreadable expression, and he just gave a shrug. If I had not known him so well, I would dismiss it as his lack of care and happily move out as soon as possible. But that was not the case. He was annoyed and irritated of the fact that I am to wed and move out of our, soon to be his, compartment.

"Holmes?" I uttered again, confused and lost. I could not afford his irritation, for I was seeking comfort in him. "Holmes… Please don't do this. You are making it hard for both of us."

"Me, Watson?" his anger rose in his voice. He lost his typical sense of humor and confidence. "You think I'm making it hard for both of us?" he growled. "Doctor, it's you who is to move out, you who is to be wed, you who is to leave me!" I cringe at the last phrase. The abandonment he felt was evident and I was to blame.

Silence echoed the room, and Holmes angrily went back to his book leaving me stunt.

"I'm sorry." I muttered. "I promise I'll visit. Don't be like this Holmes, it's not like I'm going away to die."

"You are extremely selfish, Watson. But no matter, I hope you will live a happy life."

"Please understand me. It's already decided. I never knew…"

"Never knew what?" he bolted up from his sit, and came charging at me. Fear and amusement entangled each other as I saw my usually gentle and calm friend fuming. "Never knew what, Watson? Never knew that I mattered? That I cared? That you are important to me? You should know it best! Stop playing ignorant. You know how I feel, better than I do."

He pressed me down, holding both of my wrists with his thin, cool fingers, covered with plaster here and there. His grey eyes glared back at mine, and his neat black curls were disarranged, slightly covering his left eye. He trembled slightly in anger, and after a few mumbled arguments to himself, shook his head in disgust. Out of the blue, our lips met, and panic crawled up to me.

He was too strong to push off, and I sat there helplessly, feeling the ecstasy and guilt of the kiss. His tongue was surprising warm, as it passionately entangled with mine. After a few gasp of air, he backed off, panting slightly, catching his breath. I stayed still, waiting for his next move, unable to read his expression.

His hands reached for my clothes, hurriedly unbuttoning my shirt, tearing some in his haste. Once my bared chest was exposed, he gently caressed my body, feeling my every muscle in existence.

"Don't go…" he softly whispered. His hands warped around my body, clinging like a child. I unknowingly stroke his hair, feeling the misery and desperation.

"I'll come see you. I promise." I whispered back to his ear, soothing down his emotions. I felt his tears trickle down and drop to my knee. I lift his face, for the first time seeing him cry, and kissed away his tears.

"I'll really come back to you…" and this time, I caressed him in my arms.

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Two weeks later, I moved out of 221b Baker Street.

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><p>"The Unheard Melancholic Cry" ~End<p> 


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